


Hot Burglary

by sayasamax3



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Burglary, First Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 02:40:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3158111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sayasamax3/pseuds/sayasamax3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Izumi doesn’t usually break into occupied homes, but when he does, he makes a spectacular mess of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Burglary

“Wh-who are you?”

 _‘Shit_.’

It’s been years since Izumi messed up bad enough to break into an occupied home—not since he was seventeen and bored enough to think that thievery seemed like a worthwhile side job. 

Yet here he is, standing awkwardly in the middle of a stranger’s living room, staring down a man who looks about his age with auburn hair that’s horrifically sleep-mussed, worn old sweatpants slung dangerously low on narrow hips, and a wide-eyed expression that says he’s fairly mortified to be caught so unprepared and unawares.

 _‘I_ ’ _ll take one of him to go, please,’_  Izumi can’t help thinking, which is  _ridiculous_  because he’s about to have the cops called on him and this is no time to be admiring the person who is inevitably going to do it.

“What are you doing here?” The man asks, his voice a bit less shaky but not yet verging on anger.  Fright, yes, and panic, but where hot indignation should be there seems to be the beginnings of curiosity, a certain mystification at finding himself in this position, and Izumi supposes that’s a fair thing to feel.  At any rate it’s certainly better than a rage reaction, and maybe Izumi can work with this.

 “Sorry, must’ve gotten the wrong door—“  Which is true enough, since any place with a person in it is definitely the wrong place to burglar.

“The wrong door?” The stranger repeats, looking over to the front door and immediately Izumi realizes his mistake.  The door is still closed and probably locked, but the window he crawled in through is wide open.   That’s where the stranger’s eyes go next, before he mumbles, “I’m calling the cops,” and makes a break for the phone.

But Izumi’s closer and faster, so even if it takes him a split second to register just  _where_  the other man is moving, he still manages to insinuate himself between the stranger and the little corner table with the home phone on it.

Of course, that doesn’t mean the other man can stop in time to prevent himself from crashing headlong into Izumi. 

“Let me  _go!_ ” the stranger shouts as they grapple on the floor.  It’s clear that he’s got no idea how to fight and even now he hesitates to do anything that could cause harm, so it’s not hard for Izumi to pin him down.

“I’ll let you go,” Izumi says through gritted teeth, as the other man expends the last of his fighting energy, “If  _you_  let  _me_  go.”

“What do you mean?” The man’s body seems to slump back against the floor, whether out of bewilderment or resignation it’s hard to say.  “You’re the one holding me down.”

“I mean don’t call the cops,” Izumi clarifies, shifting to seat himself more securely on the man’s legs.  “I haven’t taken anything, so just—promise you won’t call them, and I’ll leave right now.”

“I—“ the man bites back on his response,  seems to think on it a moment, and then slowly, ventures to ask, “What’re you gonna do if I don’t?”

Izumi opens his mouth to respond, and then snaps it back shut.  He has no idea what he’ll do if the other man tries to detain him or call the police.  Violence is the obvious go-to, but Izumi’s no prize fighter and at any rate the very idea of getting violent over something like this, when he knows he’s already in the wrong, sits very badly with him.

Lying, however, does not.

“I could hurt you,” Izumi throws out the words, over-casual and punctuated by a shrug.  

“You’re  _already_  hurting me,” the man replies, turning his head up just slightly, motioning to where Izumi’s hands were holding his wrists, “Your grip’s really tight.”

“Oh, uh—“ Izumi stammers, loosening his grip without a thought, only to cringe when he realizes what he’s done.  “Ah.”

The stranger struggles to bite down a smile, then gives it up as a bad job and grins.

“You can go, I won’t call the cops,” the man says through a chuckle, and Izumi is grateful to hear it because no burglary, no matter how botched, has ever flustered him quite this badly.

“…Thanks,” Izumi mumbles, getting to his feet and, because at this point it only seems appropriate to be polite, offers the man a hand and pulls him up as well.  Only he must tug a bit too hard, or maybe the stranger is just particularly clumsy, because he stumbles forward and Izumi has to catch him to put him to rights.

 _‘Good, at least I’m not the only one who’s embarrassed,’_  Izumi thinks a bit vindictively when the other man’s face goes pink, and he starts patting down his sweatpants, trying to get rid of dust that doesn’t exist.

“Uh, goodbye then, I guess?” The man says, tentative, and Izumi is treated to the most bizarre experience of being walked to the door by the person he was about to rob. 

“Yeah,” Izumi replies, stepping through the door.  “Nice meeting you…” he takes a moment to read the nameplate posted just outside the door, “Mizutani-san?”

Mizutani laughs, and now that he’s in the clear, Izumi doesn’t mind so much that the sound makes his chest feel funny.  “Right.  Nice meeting you too.”


End file.
